


Visuals

by Ink_Gypsy



Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-01
Updated: 2010-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:27:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Gypsy/pseuds/Ink_Gypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sean goes to NYC to find backers for his film, Elijah surprises him at his hotel so they can have a weekend alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Visuals

**Author's Note:**

> Written back in 2004 for an LJ community called **Postcoital**, where writers were given prompt words that had to be included in their stories. My prompt words for this story were: _link_, _post-it note_, and _mirror_.

"I have to go," Sean said, trying, without success, to get out of bed. "I'm meeting with the money men at noon."

"Money men?" came a sleepy voice from under the covers. "Tell them I'll take mine in tens and twenties."

Sean threw back the mass of tangled sheets and blankets to find Elijah wrapped around him, his head of unruly dark hair tucked under Sean's chin. Sean kissed the top of the beloved head and coaxed, "Come on, Lij, my meeting's all the way downtown, and if I don't get going I'm going to be late." He shook his head, reproaching himself. "I should have been up two hours ago."

"And whose fault is it that you weren't?" Elijah asked through a yawn, still speaking into Sean's neck. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Irish, but two hours ago, weren't you still busy having your way with me for the…" He hesitated, as if trying to recall the exact number. "…third time?"

"Well I shouldn't have been," Sean said, trying his best to sound stern, and very glad that Elijah couldn't see his smile. "This meeting is important, and I have to go over my notes one more time. I barely have time for a shower." He glanced longingly toward the bathroom. "Well, maybe a quick one."

"A quick one?" Elijah finally raised his head, wide awake now, his eyes smoldering, his expression positively wanton. "You'll get done faster if I come in and scrub your back for you."

Sean looked at him dubiously, his eyebrows raised. "If you come in and scrub my back," he said with conviction, "I'll never even get to my meeting." He'd kept his voice level, but he found it was taking all his will power not to give in. The moment Elijah had mentioned joining him in the shower, Sean's mind had conjured up a vision of Elijah down on his knees in the stall, and his cock was responding to it like Pavlov's Dog. He tried to disentangle himself from Elijah's arms, but Elijah, feeling the beginnings of Sean's erection, was being less than cooperative. "You just proved my point," he said, planting a kiss on Elijah's nose. "Now move your cute little ass."

Elijah heaved a heavy sigh and let his body go limp, allowing Sean to lift him up so he could slide out from under him. "All right," he said dramatically, his eyes following Sean's cock, which was now standing rigid against his stomach, "go take your shower, but you'd better make it a cold one unless you want to make a different kind of impression on your potential backers." He had the satisfaction of seeing Sean's face turn several shades of pink before he disappeared into the bathroom.

As soon as he heard Sean turn on the shower, Elijah reached for his cigarettes on the nightstand, lit one, and inhaled deeply. Sean had never approved of his smoking, and even though he had stopped telling Elijah he should quit, Elijah didn't like to flaunt the fact that he still hadn't. He just refrained from giving in to his craving until Sean had left the room.

Elijah had really needed a cigarette when he first arrived at Sean's hotel room the previous night, but as soon as Sean had opened the door, his mouth had craved other things. Like Sean's mouth. And Sean's cock. Elijah smiled at the memory of satisfying those cravings, savoring the taste of cloves, mixed with the lingering taste of Sean's semen. As he exhaled the smoke, Elijah congratulated himself on a job well done, but he had to admit, he hadn't been at all sure things were going to work out the way they had.

Any hopes Elijah had entertained of accompanying Sean on his trip had been dashed when he found out Christine was planning to join her husband. A trip to the Big Apple? She'd never pass that up, Elijah knew, but then Ally had gotten the lead in a dance recital at school. Chris said she'd never forgive herself if at least one of her daughter's parents wasn't there to see her perform, so she'd decided to stay at home. Delighted with the change in plans, Elijah waited patiently for his invitation from Sean, but it didn't come. Undaunted, Elijah decided to take matters into his own hands. There was no way he was going to miss the chance of having Sean all to himself in New York City, but rather than telling him what he planned to do, since he already knew where Sean was going to be staying, Elijah had decided to surprise him.

Elijah knew he was taking a big chance. Sean didn't like distractions when he was doing Lava business, and despite the luxury hotel, this was a business trip. He was there to meet with potential backers for a film version of _Isaac's Storm_, and if he got the backing, he would finally get the chance to bring his dream project to the screen, with him sitting in the director's chair. It had been a dream of Sean's since Elijah had known him, and even before, Elijah knew. Elijah was so proud of Sean's hard work and determination to get this project made, and while he had no intention of getting in the way, he figured a little sexual recreation could only help Sean relax before his meeting.

When he'd boarded the plane, he was convinced Sean would be happy to see him, but somewhere over Illinois, Elijah began to have doubts. What if he'd made a mistake? What if Sean was angry when he arrived? What if Sean didn't want him there? Elijah had worked himself into such a state that by the time his cab pulled up in front of Sean's hotel, he was ready to tell the driver to take him back to the airport.

But he had come all that way, so after getting Sean's room number from a very cooperative desk clerk (it still amazed him what a photo and an autograph could accomplish), he'd taken the elevator up to the 20th floor and made his way to Sean's room. He'd knocked, and found he was holding his breath when Sean opened the door. Sean's expression was less than welcoming, and Elijah's heart had sank when he'd tried to hug him, and Sean had held him at arm's length, demanding, "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," Elijah had said weakly, and when Sean didn't smile he'd asked, "Are you mad?"

"What do you think?" Sean's voice had been as deadly serious as his face. Then suddenly, his frown had turned into a grin, and catching Elijah in a great hug, Sean had lifted him off his feet and carried him inside, slamming the door behind them.

The minute he felt Sean's arms around him, felt Sean's lips on his, Elijah knew he'd made the right decision. His Seanie was happy to see him.

"My meeting's not until tomorrow," Sean said as he put Elijah down, "so we've got the whole night to ourselves. What would you like to do?"

Elijah's eyes were immediately drawn to the king-size bed in the corner of the room. He could imagine no New York night life that would compare to what he was already imagining he and Sean doing in it. "What do you think?" he'd asked, throwing Sean's words back at him, and within seconds, after a tackle worthy of Rudy, Elijah had Sean on his back in the middle of the bed and was straddling his hips, his fingers working frantically to unbutton Sean's shirt.

They never left the room, not even for dinner, just ordered room service and made love all night long. But now it was morning, and while Elijah was ready to start on Round Four of their lovemaking, Sean was already Mr. Involved. He would be showered, dressed and on his way in ten minutes. Elijah wished they could spend the whole day together, but he was willing to suffer Sean's absence because he knew the sooner Sean got finished taking care of business, the sooner he could get back to taking care of Elijah.

Sean might be occupied for the next few hours, but Elijah's time was his own. He was in New York, with nothing to stop him from doing anything he wanted, or better yet, doing nothing at all. Maybe he'd just stay in bed all day and wait for Sean to return with good news. And if the news was bad, he'd be in the best possible place to offer Sean sympathy and do whatever he could to make him feel better.

Elijah retrieved his glasses from the nightstand and put them on, then piled all the pillows up against the headboard. He sank into them with a contented sigh, then groaned when he realized he didn't have the remote. It wasn't on the bed or the nightstand. Exasperated, he called out, "Seanie? Where's the remote?"

"I was watching the news when I was unpacking last night," came Sean's gurgled reply through the open door, "so it must be on the dresser."

The dresser was next to the bathroom. "Fuck," Elijah muttered, forcing himself from the comfort of the bed. Deprived of the warmth of Sean's body, he found himself shivering and scanned the room for something to wear. He vaguely remembered stripping off his clothes while he sat atop Sean on the bed, but in his eagerness to get them both naked, he hadn't paid much attention to where they'd landed. What he did see, though, folded neatly on the chair over by the television, was a pair of Sean's sweats and he quickly wriggled into them. Recently-used sweats, he realized as the familiar aroma of sweat and Sean filled his nostrils. Pleased with his choice, Elijah crossed the room.

The remote was exactly where Sean had said it would be. Elijah found it lying beside the emptied contents of Sean's pockets, and picking it up, was headed back to bed when he heard Sean turn off the shower. He stayed right where he was, and was rewarded with the sight of Sean stepping out of the stall, a towel wrapped around his waist, the hair on his furry chest beaded with water. "Looks like you did make it a cold shower," Elijah said with a mock frown.

Sean looked up, surprised, then his eyes automatically went to his crotch, and Elijah saw his face go pink again. "You have a one-track mind, you know that?" he said in a no-nonsense voice.

"Guilty as charged," Elijah replied, his grin widening.

Sean shook his head, knowing it was useless to reason with Elijah when he was in the mood to play. "Are those my sweats?" he asked.

"Yup."

Sean made a face. "Ugh. Take them off, Lijah. I worked out for an hour down in the gym after I got in yesterday afternoon. They must reek."

"You're right," Elijah said pleasantly. "They reek of you, Seanie. It will be like having you here with me while you're gone."

"Suit yourself," Sean sighed. He applied a liberal amount of shaving cream to his face, and wetting his razor, quickly began to scrape it off. Elijah hoisted himself up onto the vanity to watch, but Sean, obviously uncomfortable with an audience, asked him, "So what are you going to do with yourself while I'm gone?"

"Dunno," Elijah answered. "Maybe I'll just lie in bed and watch talk shows all day."

"You miss making the rounds?" Sean smiled. He thought Elijah was the perfect talk show guest, charming, funny, articulate. Even though he was well-educated and well-spoken, Sean found he still got nervous talking off the cuff in interviews and at conventions, no matter how much he enjoyed doing them, while Elijah always seemed perfectly at ease.

"No," Elijah answered. "Do you?"

"Sometimes."

Elijah didn't ask Sean why. After a film career spanning twenty years, _Lord of the Rings_ had finally brought Sean worldwide praise for his acting, and Elijah knew that Sean feared he'd never find a role to equal it. He also knew that pursuing his directing career was Sean's way of insuring his continued work in the film industry and his being able to provide for his wife and family.

Uncomfortable thinking about Christine and the girls, Elijah looked around for something to take his mind off of them and his eye was caught by a flash of yellow. Down one side of the mirror above the sink was a string of small, yellow post-it notes. Every post-it note was attached to the one above, making it look like one link in a daisy chain. "What's with the stickies?" he asked Sean, pointing at them.

"My notes," Sean explained. "I like to read them aloud while I'm shaving."

"You mean you like to rehearse," Elijah corrected him.

"You could say that," Sean admitted, and at Elijah's smirk he added, "business is no different than acting, Lij. You're selling yourself."

"But yellow stickies?" Elijah questioned. "Wouldn't a Palm Pilot be a lot more efficient?"

Sean shook his head. "When I'm preparing a presentation, I want all the important points to stand out, to make sure I don't miss anything. I need something that gives me visual stimulation, so I use bright colors. Besides, I like the feel of paper under my fingers. Those electronic organizers are so sterile."

Elijah knew exactly what he meant. For Sean, there was nothing like getting lost in the pages of a book, so it was only natural he'd choose something he could touch and feel to work with while he pitched his project. "Okay, Seanie," he said, hopping off the vanity, "I'll leave you to it then."

Ellen Degeneres was just doing her opening monologue when Sean presented himself for inspection. He was wearing that lavender shirt Elijah loved, and looked every inch the dynamic businessman. "Give me a kiss for luck, Doodle," he said, leaning down and cupping the back of Elijah's head.

Elijah kissed him with a passion worthy of a long separation. "The kiss is yours, Seanie, but you won't need the luck because you're going to knock 'em dead."

******

When Jerry Springer stepped between two screaming women he'd brought on his show without first telling them they were both married to the same man, Elijah decided there could be too much of a good thing, and by the time Dr. Phil's bald head was filling the TV screen, Elijah was so bored out of his mind he began flipping through all 150 channels in hopes of finding something that wouldn't turn his brain to mush.

When his cell phone began to play the Notre Dame Fight Song, his ring tone for Sean, Elijah pounced on it and hit the talk button. "So?" he asked expectantly, a big smile on his face. "When do you start casting?" When Sean didn't answer right away, Elijah felt his throat tighten.

"I don't," Sean said finally, his voice barely audible. "They've decided to pass on the project."

"Fuck 'em!" Elijah spat. "If they're too stupid to realize what an opportunity this is, who needs them? I don't know why you want to go to outsiders when you know how much I want to invest--"

"No!" Sean said with such vehemence it made Elijah pull the phone away from his ear. "Look, Lij, you know how much it means to me that you're offering, but I can't let you risk your money."

"What risk?" Elijah tried. "It's a sure thing. Please let me--"

"No," Sean said, his voice less fierce, but just as unyielding. "They'll be other investors."

"I know there will." Elijah swallowed, almost afraid to ask. "Are you okay, Seanie?"

"I'm fine, babes, don't worry." He paused, then added in what Elijah recognized as a forced attempt at cheerfulness. "I'm on my way back, and you'd better not be wearing those smelly sweats when I get there."

Elijah opened his mouth to say goodbye, but heard the click on the other end of the line before he could get the words out. "Those fuckers!" he exploded, throwing his cell across the room then falling back onto the bed. Sean was a talented director, why couldn't those idiots see it?

Sean had never sounded so down before. Even during those long months in New Zealand, through all they'd had to endure, both emotionally and physically, Sean had always been his rock, and now he sounded as if he was ready to give up. Elijah had to do something to cheer him up. But what? He picked up the phone and dialed "O."

"Front desk," said a friendly voice. "May I help you?"

Elijah smiled as the plan began to take shape in his mind. "Yes you may," he said eagerly. "Where's the nearest stationery store?"

******

"Lijah? I'm back," Sean called out as he entered his hotel room. He took a deep breath and put on a happy face, determined not to ruin Elijah's weekend. "I wasn't kidding," he went on as he hung up his jacket and made his way toward the bed. "If you're wearing those sweats---"

Sean stopped short, his words forgotten. Elijah wasn't wearing Sean's smelly sweats. In fact, he wasn't wearing anything at all. He was lying on his side in a most seductive pose: one elbow bent, his head resting on his hand, one leg out straight, the other bent at the knee, giving Sean an unobstructed view of his cock, which was already half-hard.

When he moved closer, Sean saw that Elijah wasn't totally naked. On certain portions of his anatomy were strategically placed post-it notes in different sizes and colors. While Sean had stuck with yellow, Elijah's choices were much more eye-catching. His right nipple had a small pink one, while the same size one on his left nipple was purple. Each bore the same, hand-printed legend: **FOR YOUR REVIEW**. The tip of his hardening cock boasted an orange post-it reading **REQUIRES YOUR ATTENTION**, and when he leaned over to look behind Elijah, Sean found the largest size placed on the crack of his ass. A fluorescent Kelly Green, it identified the part it was covering as **TOP PRIORITY**.

"What's the matter, Seanie?" Elijah asked innocently. "Didn't I do a good job? You said you needed all the important points to stand out. I made sure I labeled them so you wouldn't miss any. And you said you needed visual stimulation, so I used the brightest colors I could find. Everything here is tangible, too. In fact, I insist you touch each and every thing I've marked. So what do you say, Irish? Are you ready to get down to business?"


End file.
